


Heroes and Villains: Of Music and Memories

by irishlullaby13



Series: Heroes and Villains [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Captain and the Siren, Captain centric, Gen, Heroes and Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: An early Heroes and Villains fic. Capt Crane is in Tarrytown Psychiatric Hospital after waking up in the modern era.





	1. Chapter 1

There were not many things Ichabod Crane liked about this Tarrytown psychiatric facility. In his opinion their readiness to shove medications down his throat _just_ because no one believed a word he was saying was one of the worst aspects. Two of the things he _did_ like, or rather two people he liked, was two of the nurses in charge of his care--Misses Latisha and Carol. They both titled themselves as “bisexual women” but were happily wed to each other. 

He absolutely adored them.

They both chattered on with him and other patients as though they were not insane. Miss Carol especially went out of her way to try to ask many questions about whatever a person had on their mind. If he was not mistaken, she had mentioned that she was actively seeking education beyond being a nurse, in order to be a doctor-- _a woman doctor_!--that specialized in the inner workings of the human psyche.

More often than not, Miss Carol was put in charge of the group sessions. 

Ichabod rather liked group sessions. Especially when Miss Carol managed to get one of the other patients to think about _why_ they thought things to be a certain way. It was truly impressive. She managed to do it in a way that didn’t insult them for thinking the way they did, but made them explore their reasons on their own. Unfortunately it never worked on him because he was telling the truth.

_So tell us, Ichabod, what inspired you to turn coat in the war_?

And they’d spend half an hour or more talking about the part he played in the Revolutionary War. On one occasion, they had a specialist in the war sit in and he had been amazed by the “amount of detail” his tales had. They connected him to a machine that gauged his brain waves--not that he was entirely certain what that meant--to see if he was lying. The on-duty physician determined he was so delusional that he “literally believe everything he said to be fact and true”.

_Because it is true!_ Ichabod had scoffed.

Miss Latisha had to one of the sweetest, kindest people he had ever met beyond his own mother. He knew it must be quite trying for her to be called in the middle of the night when he was being stubborn about not wanting to take that blasted medication. Then again, they had seemed to have learned that simply threatening to call her would get him to take it. After all, he didn’t want to be rude and have them wake her.

Also, the fact Miss Latisha was broad shouldered and matched him in height made her quite intimidating, even with her mild mannerisms. He had never seen her angry, but he didn’t want to see her thusly. 

On the flip side, Dr. Rutledge was an insufferably impatient pain in the ass.

While he was kind to most of the other patients, with Ichabod he tended to roll his eyes, huff, and snap. It was bad enough that Ichabod would often wonder if there was something he had done to one of Rutledge’s ancestors that had made the man despise him. Then again, Rutledge thought he was just a mad man too, so that theory didn’t exactly hold.

Thankfully, this night was one of the nights Miss Latisha worked. Which meant… _new books! Music too! Oh he enjoyed hearing her sing as she made her way down the corridors!_ Most importantly, it meant he might be able to get away with not taking his medication. It all depended on how much everyone tried her patience by time she reached his quarters.

At around nine o’clock, the patients were corralled toward their rooms for their nighttime medications. Ichabod waited patiently for the gentle knock at his door. Once it came, he gently called, “Enter.” The door swung open and Miss Latisha swept in like a giant, scrub clad, angel. “Good evening Miss Latisha. Judging by your glow, I take it you enjoyed your two days off?”

“I _did_ Captain Crane, I did. Thank you for asking,” she replied softly. “Carol, Melody, and I went to the harvest festival on Thursday. There was this big ruckus of some kind but it got settled.”

“What sort of _ruckus_?” Ichabod asked curiously.

“Well, there was this _thing_ that everyone thought was part of the haunted hayride,” Latisha said. “But I looked at Carol and said, ‘Carol, your tiny little ass know there ain’t noone at any of these churches that would put some randomass alien-demon looking thing on a family hayride.’ I mean, Sleepy Hollow has the campiest of campy hayrides every year, why would they add something new like that at random? With no kind of context or reason? Not to mention it looked so realistic. There wasn’t even anything remotely demon or alien looking at that part of the ride!”

Ichabod felt his heart fall to the pit of his belly as Miss Latisha handed him two cups. Was the creature his fault? “Is everyone alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Latisha replied, nudging on of his cups. He startled and turned the cup up so the contents went into his mouth. “Word has it, it was someone trying to get away from a crime, using the costume as a disguise. But there was this masked vigilante and she reigned them in--drink your juice--like--” she clicked her fingers as he drank “--that. No problem. I guess whoever the perp was, they arrested them ‘cause I haven’t heard any new updates.” She took his cups and put a fist on her hip. “And you know me, I'm nosy as hell so I've been watching the news and reading the paper. But there's absolutely nothing.”

Ichabod nodded solemnly. “A masked vigilante you say? Like the Scarlet Pimpernel?” Latisha nodded. “How delightful! That must have been a sight to behold.”

“It _was_ ,” Latisha said cheerfully. She crushed up the cups and threw them in the trash can. She smiled brightly as Ichabod blinked in surprise. _She had tricked him into taking his medications! How did she do that?!_ “I know you don’t like taking them, sweetie, but you have to understand you have to for right now.” She patted his cheek. She frowned. “God, I hate that look of betrayal on your face. We’ll keep a close watch on you to make sure nothing happens, okay? Maybe after they get done with inventory we can go back to you not having to take it on my nights.”

Ichabod nodded mutely. It was roughly an hour before he would start feeling groggy. He reached under his pillow to retrieve two books. “I finished these,” he said quietly. “I did not much care for the one by Mr. King but I found the adventures of the babysitters to be a delight.”

Latisha took the books and shrugged as she slipped them into her pocket. “Stephen King isn’t for everyone,” she said, pulling a solitary, thick tome from between some towels on her cart. “Let’s give this one a try.”

Ichabod felt his heart soar as he saw it was the fourth Harry Potter book. He was quite upset with the end of the last one and was eager to see how they would manage to bring back his favorite character. “Thank you so very much, Miss Latisha,” he said reverently. 

“That’s not all,” she said with an impish grin and removed a small device from her pocket to hand to him. 

He blinked up at her as he turned it over in his hands. “I do not understand. What is this device?” He stretched out the wire connected to it and studied the end of the two dangling bits of wire. Oh! A listening device! He had seen Miss Latisha with them in her ears before whilst she sang.

“It’s for listening to music that’s been loaded onto it,” Miss Latisha replied, kneeling down in front of him. “It’s nothing fancy, has about two hundred songs on it. Carol got us some upgraded phones so I didn’t need my MP3 player anymore. I figured I could take it home with me after I get done with my Tuesday shift and then Carol could bring it back Wednesday morning with some new songs on it. We can keep your favorites on there until you have a good playlist to enjoy.”

“I have no idea what that means.” Ichabod smiled as she gave him quick instruction on how to turn it on and the other functions. “This does not pardon your sleight of hand, Miss Latisha,” he intoned, making her laugh. “But it is much appreciated. I do enjoy music very much.”

“I only do it because I know you mean that,” she replied. “You’re not too bad for an old man that was around when my folks were traded like cards.”

He puffed out his chest. “I will have you know that I--”

Latisha nodded and ruffled his hair. “I know, I know, you were part of the Revolutionary Abolition Squad. You’ve told me that everytime I bring it up.” She stood to her full height. “Put on the music and get some sleep. I’ll check on you throughout the night on my rounds.”

“Thank you, Nurse Ouchi-Jackson,” Ichabod said as he watched her go. She gave him a little wave before closing his door and moving down to the next patient.

With a sigh, Ichabod tucked the _earbuds_ into his ears and hit the shuffle button. He was about to settle in with the book when a harmonious choir began to sing and it felt like his soul vacated his body. _Can anybody / Find me / Somebody to / Love_. The book tumbled from his fingers as he entered an almost trace-like state.

  
#  


_In the beginning, there was darkness. There was a vast nothingness. No stars, no planets. Nothing. But then the darkness trembled and_ something _emerged from the darkness. There was none around to witness dark eyes opening for the first time. The Goddess blinked Her eyes. At this time She could look in every direction simultaneously. Seeing all. Seeing the nothingness._

 _She could see that She was_ alone _._

_The Dark Goddess closed Her eyes and wished for something that was not darkness. She concentrated upon her soul and willed a portion of it forward. The Light burst forth from her breast and She cradled It in Her mighty hand._

_“Hello,” She said softly. She felt a gentle warmth from The Light. It whirled around Her, letting Her know that It was conscious of Her greeting. After a moment, It touched Her forehead._

_“Hello,” It replied. The Light reflected in her eyes as She smiled because She was no longer alone. When She slumbered, It created the stars for Her. After all, if The Light made Her smile, perhaps trillions of lights would fill Her with incomparable joy. When She awoke, the stars danced in Her eyes._

_“It’s beautiful, my little Light,” She said softly. “I love it.”_

_Her eyes widened when She touched a star and it began to spin. Soon more stars got caught in its orbit until it formed a spiral. It took cues and created more shimmering spirals, in various shapes for Her to behold. “It’s beautiful,” She breathed._

_A thus was the creation of the universe. The Light whirled around Her, making Her smile, filling Her with joy._

_And it was good and beautiful. In the glow of the stars, The Light could see She had many faces, each one beautiful and alight with wonder as They observed Its creations. When She slept, It strived to create more. It made more beautiful things for Her the marvel at._

_It created the planets, making each one subtly different than the other. Her eyes focused in one pretty blue one and She moved toward it. “Can I look closer?” She asked._

_“Of course,” The Light replied. “Just be cautious, everything is very fragile.”_

_Of course, not knowing what caution or fragile truly meant, She dove headlong toward the blue planet. A loud_ boom _as She cracked through the atmosphere. She floated above the surface, observing the creatures Her little Light had made._

_She looked up at the sky and saw Her Light glittering there. “This is beautiful, my little Light.” Her eyes observed the creatures roaming below. “May I go closer?”_

_“Of course, just remember to be--”_

_The Goddess flew down to the surface. When just the tip of Her toe touched the ground, it trembled. Hands covered each of Her mouths as the soil rippled around Her, smoke and ash filled the air._

_The Light lost track of Her until It followed the sound of Her weeping mournfully. It whirled around Her until She cradled It against Her damp cheek. “I destroyed it,” She lamented. “I didn't mean to.”_

_“I know,” the Light replied. “I will fix it, My Goddess.”_

_The Light hummed softly until She was soothed. Her eyes grew heavy and soon She slept peacefully. It had taken a long time for The Light to create this blue planet. It needed to find a way to keep The Goddess asleep until it had been restored._

_The Light observed the slumbering Goddess then made four beings in Her image. It bid the creations to continue to sooth The Goddess with songs as It began to work on fixing the blue planet._

_It created new creatures for Her to marvel at. It took the cracks and ripples left in the wake of Her to make ravines and mountains and waterfalls. After The Light was done, if It had a head, It would have nodded in approval._

_The new creation was even better than the last! Had it not been for The Goddess being impulsive and eager, It may have never been able to think of ways to make the planet even more beautiful._

_“Where is my little Light?” It heard the Goddess ask._

_“We do not know, my Lady,” the choir said as one._

_The Light rounded the planet and rejoiced at seeing Her smile brighten at Its return. She stretched out Her hands to welcome It into Her embrace._

_“I fixed the damage, My Goddess,” The Light said. “And it's even more beautiful than before.”_

_“And I have figured out how to observe it without doing it harm,” The Goddess said “I was inspired by your angels.”_

_Angels? Is that what She called the choir? The Light liked it. It was a beautiful word, just as The Goddess was beautiful. “What have you done, My Goddess?” The Light asked curiously._

_She laughed and stretched It to arms length before spinning around. It noticed immediately that The Goddess had only one face, two arms and legs, one body. “What happened to the others?”_

_That's when The Light noticed that there were now four other beings that resembled The Goddess. It also noted, that the 'angels’ had similarly separated themselves from their multi-faced and limbed forms._

_“I split Myself so that a part of Me can explore different parts of the planet at the same time,” The Goddess said. “One for the skies, one for the seas, one for the land…”_

_The Light studied the fourth. She didn't look nearly as bold and eager as the other three. She looked nervous, in fact. The Goddess nudged the fourth forward._

_“I am to explore the unseen side,” she said tentatively. “The darkest regions of this place. I am to guard over whatever I find there.”_

_With a faint smile, She glided down to the planet and eased into one of the crevices. The other three took to their respective places of discovery. The Light returned Its attention to The Goddess. “What of You, My Goddess?”_

_“Wherever you are, I shall be,” She replied, reaching out to touch The Light. She laughed and visibly shivered. “Warm. My little Light is warm.”  
_

  
#  


Ichabod shook his head to clear it as Latisha opened his door. She waltzed in like a breeze. “You're still awake?” she asked incredulously. “Usually your meds have you knocked out before I get to the end of the hall.”

He blinked blearily. His eyes still held a distance in them, pupils merely little dots in the center of his eyes. When he spoke, he used some rough dialect she didn't recognize. The amount of medical training she'd had, as well as other things, had left her with a passing understanding of Latin. And she was familiar with numerous languages. But she couldn't place it.

“Can you repeat that in English, baby, or Japanese, maybe?” she requested. “I'm fluent enough in Japanese I could understand you if you spoke that one.”

The tone of his voice deepened as he continued in the strange language. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Nor would it probably be the last. Every time he took his meds, he zoned out and started jibber jabbing in that weird language. Normally Dr Rutledge wanted them to call if he started acting weird after his meds.

The trouble with that was that he was already weird as Hell. How was she supposed to define what was normal weird and what was weirder weird?

“Find Her…” he murmured. “Must find Her.”

Latisha’s brows arched with interest. English! Finally. “Who do you need to find, Ichabod?”

“The Hidden Goddess,” he replied tonelessly. “Trapped. She is trapped. She is Angry. So angry. And sad. Only the fourth can harness Her power and let Her return. But mercy upon mankind should She ever awaken.”

Latisha pursed her lips. “This sounds like something that I need to waltz my happy black ass out that door and pretend never happened.” She turned on her heels and hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Only once the lock clicked into place was she able to breathe freely. “Everything okay Tish?” one of the CNAs asked. 

Latisha nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Everything is fine. Everything is good. Good. Good good good… it's excellent.” She gave the CNA a pointed look. “No one is to go into that room tonight except me, got it? He's in a grumpy mood so I don't want to subject y'all to that. You don't get paid enough for it.”

The CNA smiled brightly and nodded. “Okay. Thanks Miss Tish.”

Carol came in at midnight, so Latisha resolved to wait until then to do her next check in on Captain Crane.


	2. Chapter 2

“You haven't noticed any kind of peculiar behaviour while he's on the medication,” Dr Rutledge asked.

“You read my reports, didn't you?” Latisha asked. “He just sort of sits there, zoned out. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sometimes he just goes to sleep.” She cocked her head curiously. “ _Should_ he be doing anything abnormal?”

Latisha had heard stories. They cropped up on occasion. They'd get a patient in that ranted and raved about being a revolutionary soldier. Dr Rutledge would ask to handle the case _personally_. The patient would be given some weird experimental drug because, hey, what else are you supposed to do with technical John Doe’s who can’t consent or refuse treatments because they've been declared incapable of making their own decisions? 

It's not like they had anyone on the outside to object. And if anyone on the inside objected… 

Well, there were plenty of folk that had asked too many questions. Most of them ended up losing their credentials or died of drug overdoses even though they had never done drugs before their death date. It all depended on how many questions they asked.

The ones in the past had always come down from the delusion within a day or two. Or they had a family member start looking for them. Captain Crane, so far, had neither and it had been almost two months.

“Why is it you always ask the aids to let you attend to Mr Crane yourself?”

Latisha laughed. Of course he was going to ignore her own inquiry. “You've seen the fight he can put up,” she intoned. “I ain't about to let those itty bitty girls try to handle that big old honkin man. Instead of having them call me to come help, I figure it's easier to just see to him on my own.”

Dr Rutledge nodded. “Understandable. And I commend your concern for your co-workers, Latisha. You truly are a compassionate and caring nurse. Rare these days. I could use such a person on our daytime crew. What do you say? Tuesday through Friday. Six to six?”

“I don't know… I'd have to talk it over with Carol,” she said hesitantly. “It's hard enough getting a babysitter like we are currently set up. And Melody starts school soon.”

“Carol’s going to be transitioning to a Monday to Friday, nine to five once she finishes this next semester of her studies,” Rutledge said. “We're giving her a headstart in her clinical work so she can finish her degree quicker.” He gave her a gentle smile. “The school bus could drop Melody off here and she could spend time in the employee child care centre until Carol gets done for the day.”

Latisha worried her bottom lip then sucked in a breath. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was trying to do. She was asking questions he didn't like so he was giving her an out before she became the next first time drug user dying of an OD.

“You would be Head Nurse,” Rutledge added. 

Latisha felt her heart leap. Just what the hell was this man trying to hide? It had to something big if he was giving _that_ kind of promotion. “Head nurse?” she asked with disbelief. When he nodded, she beamed. “Well, _I guess_ I'll just have to say okay and Carol and I will just have to deal with me being head nurse and having three days off a week.”

“Good. You're a very wise woman, Latisha,” Rutledge said with a rueful smirk. “We can start you on the new schedule Monday since you're off on Sunday.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Latisha kept a smile on her face until she was out of the office area. Which then her gaze became stern and set. If he thought it was going to be that easy to get her off this, he had another goddamn thing coming.

If anything, the promotion actually would help her in the long run. It freed up extra time to try do what needed to get done.

  
#  


Intelligible gibberish.

Dr. Rutledge rubbed his eyes as he peered at his patient, staring at the ceiling, hand waving elegantly as he spoke complete and utter gibberish. _This_ couldn't _possibly_ be the first Witness.

Although, the others had simply passed out and fell asleep at this point. He had started the Captain on the same amount as everyone else so see how he faired and gradually increased the dosage.

At this point he had put enough tranquilizers in the man's system that it could kill an elephant. Yet he was merely laying there, babbling. How was that possible, lest he _was_ the first Witness?

Captain Crane’s hand paused mid-air. His fingers flicked gently. Then he promptly sat up and looked around. 

“Where is she?” Captain Crane asked, his voice rough and deep. “Why are you keeping her from me?”

Rutledge cast a glance at his assistant. “Are you recording?” The woman nodded. He stepped into the room and took a seat on the corner of the little desk. “Who are we keeping from you, Captain Crane? Your wife? The one you say is trapped in purgatory.”

He shook his head slowly. “You trapped her away from me. Why? And you have the audacity to blame me for it!” He snapped his attention to Rutledge. “ _Where is she_? I could wipe you away from existence with a mere fanciful thought. Do not toy with me, human.”

For a fleeting moment, Rutledge had a sick feeling in the pit of his belly, as though the other man were attempting to do as threatened. “I must first know who you are looking for.”

Captain Crane chuckled darkly. “Which name do you know Her by? She has had so many. Every culture has a different name for Her.” His expression saddened. “My Goddess… I can feel you but I cannot find you my love…”

“What are some of her names? Perhaps we can find Her,” Rutledge said soothingly. “What did _you_ call Her?”

“I called Her my Goddess. I have heard humans call Her The Great Mother. The Great Destroyer. The Great Creator. The Dark Goddess. The Great Equalizer. Pele. Kali… Coatlicue. Nu, though She was not considered a physical being with that name. That's to name merely a few. There are so many others, do I need to continue?”

Rutledge shook his head. “Modern man does not worship a Goddess, most of the time. Most of us believe in a male God. A God of Ligh--”

“I am aware,” Captain Crane intoned. “I am aware that man in has forsaken their Goddess and Creator. Instead you worship the Light. The Light is not your Creator. She was. It was She alone that could breathe life into mankind. The Light merely helped Her _build_ mankind. You were merely sand and clay until She gave you life.”

“And who are you in all of this?” Rutledge asked. 

“I am Her heart,” Captain Crane replied, his voice breaking as if on the verge of tears. “I am Her soul. I am Her Light.” He looked around vaguely. “She needs me. She calls for me. But I cannot find Her.”

“And what were you named by mankind?” Rutledge asked, half fearing the answer.

Instead of giving an answer, Captain Crane gave a slow, wicked smile, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Whatever you think it is. We are one and the same. You may think we're two different beings. But we are merely the two sides of the same coin. You worship us both in your own way.”

Captain Crane's eyes rolled back and he fell over sideways as his body went slack.

  
#  


_“This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine,” The Goddess sang softly. “Let it shine, shine, shine, shine…” She laughed as the Light swirled around Her from head to toe._

_Her joy was infectious, making the angels laugh._

_“What shall I build for you today, my Goddess?” The Light asked._

_She pursed Her pretty lips and gazed over the things It had already built. The creatures that roamed freely, The Garden, the angels… “You have not yet made a physical form for yourself, my little Light. Don't you wish to have a form?”_

_It had been so busy creating the heavens and the Earth and all the creatures upon it that It hadn't even fathomed the idea of making themselves a body. It had been so focused on bringing the Goddess joy, that making Its own body seemed such a trivial matter._

_Although, It would quite enjoy being able to truly touch Her face. To kiss her lips. To gather Her into arms and hold Her close, as It do often saw Her do with the angels. It already enjoyed Her touch, It could only imagine what it would feel like if It had skin!_

_“I did not know what you would like my physical form to be, my Goddess,” the Light replied._

_“Then We will forge it_ together _.”_

_So they set out to find what was needed to make It a physical form._


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning Granny,” Latisha greeted as she walked into the private room at the nursing home. The old woman gave her an indifferent grump. “Ah, it's that kinda day, is it?”

“Them bitches dragged me out of room and hosed me down,” Granny griped. She clicked her tongue with disapproval. “Here I was thinkin’ those days were done. They tried to drown me!”

Latisha sighed and shook her head. “Granny. If you nearly drown while they were giving you a shower it's because you were trying to fight them again.” She recalled seeing one of the aids sporting a black eye. “Was it you that gave Locklynn that black eye?”

“I was tryin’ to knock her damn teeth out,” Granny huffed. “What brings you by today, Tish. Is it Sunday already?”

“Yes ma'am it is,” Latisha said. “Plus I thought you might want to get out for the day. The fair is in town. Heard they got these four psychics that speak as one there.”

Granny looked toward Latisha slowly. “The four who speak as one,” she murmured. “They're one of the last ones. Didn't think I'd live long enough for them to show their faces here again.”

“How many are left after them?” Latisha asked.

“Two,” Granny said softly. “And I ain't resting until they're dead.”

“I heard one of them is in the in your ward,” Latisha said. “Terminal. In a lot of pain. Heard they have nightmares and have visions of an angel standing over them holding a flaming sword.” She cut her eyes to Granny. “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Granny smiled and chuckled. “Such a big nursing home,” she said with a hint of glee in her voice. “And the cameras will show my door does not open unless those little tramps some in to check on me.”

Latisha well knew Granny's game. Long ago one of the local covens had lured her son in with false pretences. She didn't know the _full_ details, praise the Lord, and she didn't want to. All that mattered was that they had killed Granny's only child and, according to Granny, she had been anointed to carry out her revenge on those who did it.

Considering she worked in a mental hospital, Latisha was well aware of people that claimed crazy shit. But as one of few women who had bloodlines that could be traced all the way back to ancient days of yore, Latisha knew Granny wasn't one of those people. That, and she had seen it with her own eyes.

“Funny how that happens,” Latisha hummed. “Well, let's get you ready to go, Granny.”

She was just about to take a seat in the rickety chair to await Granny's ritual for a Sunday outing when her cell phone rang. She frowned when she saw it was the mental hospital. _Really, on Sunday_? she thought bitterly. She hadn't even officially started her new shift but yet here she was, getting calls.

“This had better be good Dr. Reed,” she said flatly. That was the only person she could fathom calling her on her goddamn day off.

Dr Reed didn't disappoint.

“Lati--”

“ _Demand compensation for their disruption in your time off_!” A familiar, British voice shouted in the background.

Dr Reed sighed heavily. “I'm getting too old for this,” he groaned. “This was supposed to be the gravy train shift.” He cleared his throat. “Latisha, we're having issues with Captain Crane again…”

“What's that fool done doin’ now?” she sighed.

“We're not entirely certain _how_ he's done it but…”

“ _Unhand me you foul blackgaurds! Demand compensation, Nurse Ouchi-Jackson! Do not permit these treasonous curmudg--_!”

Latisha couldn't stop the ugly laugh that ripped from her lips as she heard a loud crash followed by various voices commanding Captain Crane to _get down from there_!

“Please, Latisha, you're the only one he listens to,” Dr Reed pleaded. 

“He has a point, though,” Latisha stated. “This is my time off. I should be compensated.” She paused a moment. “Is he in the rafters again?”

“Yes, and we have no idea how he got up there,” Dr Reed supplied.

“How about that compensation?” she asked.

“You don't have to clock out for lunch all week,” Dr Reed said frantically.

“Two weeks,” Latisha countered.

“You can have three weeks if that's what will get you here to help,” Dr Reed said hariedly.

“Three weeks? Okay. I'll be there in about ten minutes,” she said. After she hung up, she peered at Granny. “Step it up Granny, I got a crazy man to deal with before we go to the carnival.”

  
#  


Approximately twenty minutes before Latisha had arrived to the nursing home, her most problem causing patient woke up. It was neither his own will or because he was well well rested. Ichabod Crane felt like he had been awake all night. His throat also hurt like he had been screaming at the top of his lungs. Instead he awoke to a bored looking nurse baring the customary small plastic cup.

He glowered at her a moment then turned over in his bed to face the wall.

“Come on Captain Crane,” the nurse said. “We both know you have to take your meds. You don’t have the same meds as you do at night. These won’t make you... go to sleep.”

She had a point. When he took his morning medicine, he generally could think rather clearly and he was nowhere near as fidgety. Ichabod rolled back over and sat up, cringing as his muscles complained and his joints cracked. Perhaps he needed to do as Nurse Latisha suggested and start doing the “exercises” they performed in the morning routines.

The nurse cracked a smile. “Thanks for behaving, old man.”

He obediently took the medication and gave the nurse a smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her. Ichabod waited as he heard the cart squeak its way down to the next room. In approximately ten minutes the aids would come around to start escorting patients to the spacious room they took their meals and did activities. He fathomed that left him about five minutes…

His eyes went up to the panels in the ceiling. 

There was one particular patient he had begun to enjoy speaking to. She said, if one was careful, they could easily escape through said panels. She knew because she had done it three times already. All he would have to do was make certain to keep his steps on the beams until he reached one of the outside ducts. Then it was a matter of waiting for the guards to pass by then make a run for it, to the back corner of the facility grounds where she had an escape that was obstructed by some bushes.

He had tried this escape once before, shortly after meeting Miss Jenny for the first time. But he had an advantage this time that he had not the last time. This time he had a miniature torch--which he had stolen from one of the nurses when he set it down on a bench outside and left it. It had taken Ichabod nearly half an hour to figure out how the device worked by watching the “smokers.”

Ichabod lifted his matress to retrieve the “lighter” and shoved it into the pocket. For a moment, he mentally lamented that he would have to leave his normal attire behind, wherever it was in this place. But, perhaps it was for the best. He would be able to be much more inconspicuous if he acquired modern clothing once he was free. Miss Jenny had stated that one could “raid the donation bin at the Shop N’ Save two blocks down the street” for clothing. 

Even if he was unfamiliar with whatever monstrosities awaited him in the outside world, he was certain he could find his way two blocks down the street to get clothing. From there he would have to figure out what he was doing. 

He just knew he had to find the police officer from that night. Not the one that had arrested him. The lovely police lieutenant that had threatened to shoot him.

He paused as her face flashed before his mind. Ichabod couldn't explain it but he felt like he knew her face… as though he had seen it a thousand times. A bright smile on her face, eyes aglow with joy and affection.

Ichabod shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to be obsessing over dream women. He needed to make haste in his escape.

With the nimbleness of a dormouse, Ichabod scrambled onto the small desk in the corner and eased one of the panels up and to the side. He grasped hold of the steel beam and wriggled his way up. “Victorious,” he whispered as he slipped the panel back into place.

This, he felt was where he had gone wrong in his previous flight attempt. At night there was precious little light. In the light of day, sunlight filtered in through vents. He wouldn't even need the lighter!

Also, they would be expecting an escape during daylight hours. Ichabod waited patiently for the aid to discover he was missing. _You will need a distraction_ , Miss Jenny had said.

There was no bigger distraction than being a missing patient. He had seen the way they scrambled around aimlessly when Miss Jenny went missing.

Taking carefully calculated steps, he followed the duct work. He would need to make it to the public men's room then slip out whilst everyone else was distracted with head counts and arranging the search.

If he was lucky, he could conceal himself in the various shrubs and bushes and make his escape at the back corner of the property. Then it was simply a matter of keeping himself hidden until nightfall.

_You have to be careful when making your way over the common room, it's a two story drop if you misstep. Sometimes the pipes they used to conceal the wiring looks fine but it isn't connected to anything and you'll end up crashing through the ceiling and also get a mild electric shock._

He wished he could have consulted with Miss Jenny one last time prior to this endeavor. However she had been “sprung” by her sister weeks ago. 

_Tonight. I'm gonna have myself a real good time_.

Ichabod glanced toward an air vent as he heard the melodic voice singing. He chuckled gently. It was “Freddie.” She had befriended him and thought she was the reincarnation of a so-called rock star named Freddie Mercury. Her favourite thing to do was to sing Queen songs and cause ruckus by dancing on the tables in the recreation room.

_I feel alive and the world I'll turn inside out, yeah… and floating around in ecstasy..._

He had a feeling things were about to make a move in his favour. Freddie only started singing when she was ready to act out. And if they were still on med rounds, that meant… he might have a much better distraction at hand.

_So don't stop me now. Don't stop me now. Cause I'm having a good time! Having a good time!_

Ichabod cackled softly as he heard the tell a tale sound of a crash followed by several surprised “Freddie! Get back here!”s. Suddenly Freddie's voice was echoing down the corridors, exuberant as ever.

_I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky. Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity._

Ichabod scurried along the beams, following Freddie's voice. She always made for the entrance when she made a break for it.

_I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva! I'm gonna go! Go! Go! There's no stopping me!_

The sound of destruction followed Freddie's voice. Ichabod could only fathom what all she was throwing in the path of those pursuing her. When she last attempted escaping, she had overturned tables in the recreation room, whirled medicine carts around like dance partners, and strewn toilet paper like confetti all whilst singing about loving fat-bottomed girls.

_I'm burning through the sky yeah. Two hundred degrees! That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit! I'm traveling at the speed of light! I'm wanna make a supersonic man out of you!_

Ichabod could suddenly feel his heart racing out if control. He was nearing the recreation room, he knew. So he'd have to be even more careful. Miss Jenny had said the worst of the bad paths were over the rec room. And it was not exactly the best place to make an error. The rec room was two floors high. 

He could easily break his neck or another appendage if he fell through. Not to mention the electrical shock. Miss Jenny had scowled when he asked if it would be worse than the ones Dr Rutledge gave as part of therapy.

_“Are you depressed or bipolar?” Miss Jenny asked hesitantly._

_“I do not believe it is on the list of afflictions,” he had replied, shaking his head. “Is that of importance?”_

_Her scowl told him everything he needed to know._

According to Miss Jenny the shock would probably be much worse than the ones Dr Rutledge administered. Also, according to Nurse Latisha, he was neither depressed nor bipolar. She had thought his concern with shock treatment was that he would be a candidate. But she had assured him that it was reserved only for extreme cases, when medication didn't help--and his medication helped so he didn't have anything to worry about.

His step faltered slightly when, for a split second, he recalled a face he had seen during one such treatment. The face of the police officer which had spoken to him his first night in this modern civilization. It morphed into a face that was staring up at the sun, smiling.

_“My Light,” she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek._

Ichabod swallowed hard and tried to keep his facilities about him. It was tricky when the flashes began. They were almost like memories. But at the same time he knew they were not. Were they dreams? Visions of mental fancy? 

“Not now,” he muttered, gasping for breath. 

His head whirled and vertigo made the space around him flip on end. 

_Like an atom bomb… oh oh oh oh oh explode!_

Ichabod felt his knees give out and he collapsed. The last thing he was conscious of was a jolt coursing through his body.

  
#  


_The Goddess let the pale sands filter between her fingers, smiling brightly. They were somewhere near the middle of the planet’s surface. “One of my selves saw this… the colour reminded me of your light,” She said sweetly. “We will use it to make your flesh.”_

_It approved. Whatever would make their Goddess happy, She would have._

_She chose Her favourite of everything. Blue from the sky for their eyes. Copper leaves from the seasonal change for their hair. Together they gathered item after item, until She had designed a body not much different from Her own in shape._

_It studied the result with curiosity as She made the clay figure from sand and water. It thought of cradling The Goddess close, enveloping Her in its embrace. She looked up and smiled._

_“I like that,” She said and lengthened the torso, arms, and legs. “What else would please you My Light?”_

_The Light intensified with glee. “Anything that wou--” It paused when She laughed and shook Her head. “What?”_

_“I didn't ask what would make_ me _happy, My Light,” She replied. “I asked what would make_ you _happy.”_

_The Light mulled it over for what would someday be the space of half an hour for a mortal man but for Them was merely a second. It remembered, before She had willed It into existence. It could remember the warmth within Her breast, the gentle thrum of existence pulsing around It._

_How would The Light be able to describe what It wanted? “I would like to be inside of You again my Goddess. Is there a way I can do that even if it's only for a moment?”_

_The Goddess pursed Her lips and mixed more clay. She considered many designs before They settled upon one. She held out Her hands, still covered in the sandy clay. “Come to Me, My Light.”_

_The Light floated over to The Goddess and settled into Her palms. She breathed Them into Her lungs. For a blissful moment, The Light felt complete again._

_The Goddess leaned over the figure and cupped Her hands over the mouth and nose of the face. She breathed deep then breathed The Light into The Body._

_It gasped deeply as It felt Life. The same kind of Life it had created for Her joy and pleasure in their Garden. For hours, It flexed Its fingers and toes. It blinked Its eyes. It breathed the air as It had never done before. Finally It looked to the Goddess._

_She fluttered Her lashes and smiled. “Does it please you My Light?” She asked._

_The Light used Their hands to touch The Goddess's face. It was Everything It had ever thought it would be. Her skin was warm and soft. Her lips softer and slightly damp to Its touch._

_“You have a very different energy than Mine, but it is of Me,” the Goddess said softly as It relates Its forehead against Hers. “I am She. So your energy will be called He.”_

_“Will I have a name,” He croaked, testing His voice for the first time. “As you have given the angels and the creatures and everything in the Garden?”_

_While the Angels were called angels, the greenery was plants, the sands were sand… each individual thing was given a special name of it's own. Would She give Him a special name too?_

_She smiled and nodded. “You, My Light, shall be called…” She closed Her eyes and hummed softly. When She opened Her eyes, looking directly into His as She cupped His cheek. “I know exactly what your name should be.”_

  
#  


The carnival was all but closed down for the night when Granny's motorized scooter stopped outside of a worn tent. “You sure about this Granny?” Tish had always been a little off put by witches and fortune tellers. Her family didn't exactly have a good history with them.

Granny huffed gently and nodded as she removed her knobby cane from its holster. “I've been wantin’ to see these lovely girls for several years. Might not get another chance.”

Tish sucked in a breath and nodded. If anything, talking to a quartet of loopy ass witches at the end of her day was just the sprinkles on the ice cream. Although she was pretty sure there wouldn't be much talking once Granny confirmed a few things.

The four that speak as one tilted their heads as Granny slowly rolled in. Tish had to fight a chill that coursed up her spine. 

“Ladies,” Granny intoned.

“We wondered if you would come,” they said together. “Especially after having a visit from the second witness earlier.”

God, that was creepy as Hell, Tish couldn't help but think.

“Not many can evade our vision, but you have been able to,” they said. 

“Just a simple concealment spell,” Granny shrugged. “I think you know what I want to know.” She paused. “Were y'all involved?”

The four that speak as one were silent for a the space of a breath. “What could you do to us, old woman?” When Granny didn't respond they answered her query. “The coven was desperate. We knew if anyone's blood could raise the child of the Witness, it would have been your son. Only the sacrifice of a pure soul can awaken a great evil. A child born of no man, free of sin.”

Granny hummed and nodded. “That's all I needed to know,” she murmured.

“Answer us, old woman,” they hissed. “What could you possibly do to us?”

Tish had only ever seen what came next twice. She didn't care to see it a third but, she found she couldn't look away when Granny tapped the end of her cane on the ground and thunder rumbled through the air.

Granny eased herself to her feet and shuffled to stand in front of her scooter. “An old woman?” Granny huffed. “Is that what you see?”

Granny tapped her cane on the ground again. This time it shimmered gold and turned into a sword with a hilt gleaming with gold and sparkling gems.

Four faces suddenly looked terrified. “Only descendants of the Great Goddess Herself can bare a pure soul,” Granny stated. “That's one thing you stupid mortals forgot through the ages.”

Granny's poise straighten. Her peppered grey hair turned luminous black, her tidy bun coming undone so a headful of dark curls spilled down her back and over her shoulders. Before long, a simple cotton gown had been turned to gleaming armour. Where once was an old woman, stood a regal young woman.

Gold and silver wings unfurled from between her shoulders. They shuddered as though they rejoiced at being used once more. Tish felt tears stream down her face at seeing such fierce glory. An angel, yes. An archangel to be precise. But if she had learned anything, it was that angels were not the singing harpists that mankind thought them to be.

“Michael,” the four that speak as one said. 

Tish brought her fingers to her ears as the angel sucked in a deep breath. She squeezed her eyes shut against the resonating war cry. Desperate shrieks and the sickening scent of blood filled the heavy air.

Tish counted down backwards from ten, trying to ease her breathing. Soon enough it was over and a deafening silence took the place of the noise. 

“Oohwee, this carnival has been fun Tishy baby but it's getting late,” Granny's voice cut through. “I should get back to the nursing home in case my boy comes to see me.”

When Tish looked up the angel had returned to looking like the family matriarch. Her tiny feet shuffled along as she returned to her scooter. After one of these moments, Tish never knew if Granny even recalled what she had done.

“Sure thing Granny, let's go.”

Granny hummed a little tune as she left the tent. It sounded a lot like the hymn This Little Light Of Mine. Tish took a look at the _carnage_ the angel had left behind, shuddered, then followed after Granny.


	4. Chapter 4

It was rare for one to escape a jolt from a high voltage line completely unscathed. Yet Captain Crane sat ridgely at a table inhabited by himself, Jennifer Mills, and the tall, pale woman they knew simply as Freddie. 

Crane was pouting again, per usual. Jenny was grinning brightly as Freddie turned an item over and over in her long, delicate fingers, studying every edge and curve with a delighted smile. The nurses called the trio The Runaways for the very obvious reason that they were the ones often trying to runaway.

So far, Jenny was the only one that had ever been successful. Why she saw it fit to escape was a mystery though. She was in the facility of her own free will. 

Captain Crane had been almost successful, twice. Had it not been for him suffering one of his sporadic seizures, he might have been successful on his last one.

Freddie had tried at least a dozen times but often found herself in a dead end corridor or a room without windows. They imagined the fact she was blind was the primary reason she has such a time trying to get out. 

Doctor Rutledge studied the three. They didn't seem to be up to any kind of mischief today. Probably because it was visitation day and Jenny had promised the other two that her sister was bringing them goodies from home.

“Well, knowing Abbie it'll be brownies from the Tarrytown Foodmarket that she tossed into a doughnut box to make us think she made them herself,” Jenny was telling her friends. She nudged Captain Crane with her foot under the table, he blinked and looked at her. “Did you hear me? We're getting treats.”

He nodded mutely and fiddled with the dry macaroni noodles on his sheet of paper.

The man was depressed, that much was obvious, Dr Rutledge noted. Normally his face lit up at the mention of confectioneries. They had been getting a whole bunch of nothing from him lately during his “therapy sessions.”

Nothing since his last escape attempt. Perhaps it was time to take him some place they could take measures to the extreme. The manor they used as their masons lodge had a reinforced basement that would probably work perfectly. It would enable them to find out once and for all who this man was.

He wasn't completely human, that was for certain.

“ _There's no time for us_  
There's no place for us  
What is this thing that builds our dreams,  
Yet slips away from us?.” 

Dr Rutledge sucked in a breath as Freddie's melodic voice filled the air. Almost immediately a smile lit up Captain Crane's face. The fact the woman somehow flawlessly knew every word to every Queen song was not the strangest thing about her. The strangest thing was that, right now, even the people on the furthest wing on the third floor could hear her voice loud and clear. Dr Rutledge wouldn't have believed it if he, himself had not experienced it on previous occasions. More often than not, even the gate guards said they could hear her.

They had tried to duplicate the effect. But even Nurse Ouchi-Jackson couldn't get her voice to have that kind of range from anywhere in the facility. Good God, they didn't need this on visitation day but if they did anything, they might miss out on a chance to see if anything interesting happened. She was one of several patients they liked to experiment with. 

So far she seemed content to remain seated.

_Who wants to live forever?_  
Who wants to live forever?  
Oh, oh. 

Rutledge felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. “What is it Kim?” he grumbled, shaking his head to clear it. 

The young man nodded toward a couple at the check in desk. “The extraction team is here,” he said.

“Good. Go and, quote, find out who they are here to fetch,” Rutledge instructed. He guaranteed they were here to see if their uncle--a very confused man that thought he was a revolutionary soldier--was the “john doe” they had on file.

_There's no chance for us_  
It's all decided for us  
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us 

The young couple was soon led over to Captain Crane. The wife burst into tears and threw her arms around “Uncle Stephen’s” neck. Captain Crane, predictably, looked completely confused.

_Who wants to live forever?_  
Who wants to live forever?  
Oh, oh.  
Who dares to love forever?  
Oh, oh, when love must die! 

Suddenly, Freddie went ramrod straight, her head moving around as of trying to focus on the origins of a sound. “My Lord, she is here,” Freddie said dramatically, a delicate British lift to her voice.

“Yes she is,” the husband said cheerfully.

“No you, you idiot mortals,” Freddie stated. She rested her hand upon Crane's arm. “The Goddess is near My Lord. _She is here_. I can feel Her glorious presence! You mustn't leave!” Freddie leapt to her feet and clamoured atop the table. “Sing with all your hearts, my angels so that your Goddess may hear you!”

As the extraction team guided Crane away from the table, the entry doors of the facility opened. Freddie raised her hands in the air in praise. “Hear us, Reverent Goddess! We sing for you!”

Freddie sucked in a deep breath. When her voice burst forth again, Rutledge leaned away from the door he was leaning against, as the glass--the tempered glass!--vibrated and began to ripple as it broke.

_But touch my tears, with your lips_  
Touch my world, with your fingertips.  
And we can have forever!  
And we can love forever!  
Forever is our today 

He glanced toward the registration desk and saw Jenny's sister, staring through the doorway, transfixed.

“I can feel you, My Goddess!” Freddie called out. “You're amongst us!” She looked around wildly, tears streaming down her face. “Sing with me angels, sing!” Much to his surprise, several other voices joined in like a heavenly choir to accompany Freddie.

_Who wants to live forever?  
Who wants to live forever?_

Rutledge stared at Abigail Mills. He couldn't explain the gentle glow surrounding her. Had it not been so dark in the registration area, he may have never seen it. Her gaze stayed focused on Freddie as she slowly walked forward into the room.

Freddie slowly climbed off of the table as Abbie drew near. When Abbie reached her, Freddie crumbled down to her knees and fumbled to find Abbie's hands and press them to her face.

_Forever is our today  
Who lives forever anyway?_

Freddie began to sob softly. Jenny tentatively walked over. “Freddie,” she said softly. “This is my sister, Abbie.” Jenny looked at Freddie. “Abbie, this is Freddie, the one I've been telling you about.”

Rutledge swallowed hard. Good God, that had been too close. The last thing he wanted was for Jenny's sister to have met Captain Crane. He wasn't sure what her interest in him was, but the nosy police officer couldn't have any kind of good intentions. Especially since she was one of Corbin's protégés.

They had gotten Crane out just in time.

  
#  


Ichabod was as confused as ever. He had no idea who these two people professing to be his “niece and her husband” were. But he couldn't help but see a vague familiar resemblance to the woman claiming to be his niece.

“You're absolutely certain this is your uncle?” Dr Rutledge asked. Ichabod cast a glance at Carol, who's expression was dubious at best, like his own.

“You don't have any kind of photographs of him or anything?” Carol asked carefully. “Something we can use to verif--”

“That's not necessary, Carol, you know that,” Dr. Rutledge stated sternly. “They were probably in such a state of relief to hear he had been found that they forgot to bring anything.”

The woman, Sierra, nodded. “I'm just so happy to see my Uncle Benjamin again.”

“I beg your pardon, madam, I am Captain Ichabod Crane,” Ichabod huffed. He would have gladly accepted any name except _that one_.

“We have no idea where he came up with that name,” the man, James, said as he shook his head. “He was a college history professor before his accident, so we think it may be some little known figure from history.”

“Miss Carol, I have no idea who these people are,” Ichabod pleaded. “Please do not let them take me away from here.”

“Dr Rutledge, he doesn't want to leave, according to--”

“He's not in his right mind, therefore it's not up to him, _Carol_ ,” Rutledge snapped and the tiny woman shrank back with a scowl.

Ichabod bristled. “I beg your pardon,” he groused. “That is ungentlemanly tone to take with a lady. Especially one as fine and upstanding as Miss Carol.”

The man and woman laughed. “Uncle Benny,” Sierra said. “Always taking up for the ladies, even when he's out of his mind. He's always been such a gentleman. Even during his periods of confusion.”

“Do his periods of confusion tend to last for months at a time? Unwavering?” Carol asked. “And you said it was caused by an accident, right? Then why doesn't any of his x-rays or other tests show any kind of major brain injuries?”

The young couple cast a glance at each other then looked to Rutledge.

“I'm only asking because it's highly unus--”

“ _Carol_ ,” Rutledge snapped. “Please go wait for me in my office.”

The small woman glared daggers at Rutledge but nonetheless turned on her heels and stormed off. But not before Ichabod had seen what she had scribbled on the back of her notepad. _If this is a sham, escape and go to mine and Latisha's house_ , followed by their address.

“Forgive me, Carol is an intern and doesn't quite understand the intricacies of our procedures,” Rutledge explain with the kind of smile that made Ichabod uncomfortable. He looked toward Ichabod. “It seems your name is Professor Benjamin Allen. You were a history professor at Syracuse until you suffered an attack that left you without oxygen for several minutes. It was bad enough you needed constant care and your niece and her husband were gracious enough to take you in. Understood, Captain?”

Ichabod felt something well up inside him, almost like an animal that was clawing to escape from the back of his head. His vision went black and next he knew he was being thrown down some steps into a dark room that smelled of damp dirt. He scrambled around until he was staring up at four men at the top of rickety stairs, amongst them was Rutledge. They looked like they had been in a fight and nearly lost.

“The binding should hold for now,” Rutledge said. “Sierra is good at those type of spells. But we need to look into finding out what can constrain him during further research. It gets stronger every time.”

“Not so much stronger as _angrier_ ,” one of the others said. “Whatever it is, I'm afraid we're just pissing it off.”

Rutledge gave a small snort. “I'm not scared of some pissy ass lesser demon,” he chuckled. “Give me Satan himself and perhaps I might get a little nervous.”

The door closed and Ichabod scrambled up the steps, falling against it as he heard numerous locks latch. He wanted to beg them to let him out, but he felt and knew it would fall upon deaf ears.

There was enough light coming in through a small window that he was able to see his way back down the steps. The room was strewn with various things, most of which Ichabod had no idea what they were. He noted a second window on the other side of massive wooden doors that rested above a small set of steps. The second window was almost completely covered in grime.

For all intents and purposes, it was fairly spacious albeit poorly lit. It was while taking a slow look around that Ichabod noticed it. One of those light bulb _things_ he had seen at the hospital. He carefully walked over and pulled the cord. 

The bulb flickered then softly glowed. 

Yes. This he could work with. He could definitely work with this. He removed his coat, found some old cloth and set to trying to clear the windows of the built up grime.

Once night came, he made himself a makeshift bed on the ground and pulled the cord on the light to turn it off. Moonlight glared through the window, offering him a small amount of comfort in the still silence of the cellar.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard a soft feminine voice whisper in his ear.

_My Light. You will be called… Lucifer._

  
#Epilogue#  


Freddie kept her head bowed as she listened to Jenny talk about her sister. _Abbie_. She lifted her head. “Why do you give everyone a false name?” Freddie asked, interrupting Jenny going on about how Abbie was helping her through her issues almost as much as the hospital.

“I'm sorry, what?” Abbie asked. “My name is Abigail. I go by Abbie.”

Freddie shook her head. “No its not.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. The voices of everyone talking reduced to a tiny hum. “ _Amazing Grace. How sweet… the sound…_ ” Her voice trailed off with a gentle laugh.

“Wow,” Abbie stated. “Yeah. I mean, my name is Grace Abigail. But I've gone by Abbie since I was little because some of the other kids would… call me names.”

“We lived in one of those white neighbourhoods that they had never seen black folks before,” Jenny provided. 

“They called me Greasy Grace,” Abbie deadpanned. “So after I popped the ring leader in the face, I told them they had better start calling me Abbie. They couldn't think of any rude names to call me then.”

“A true warrior through and through,” Freddie said softly. “Grace… it's such a beautiful name.”

Perhaps she was insane as they professed. But Freddie could hear a soft voice in the back of her head urging her to sing. Sing, sing, sing, and sing… She had been hearing it for years. Telling her The Goddess was near. But it always faded away. 

Sing so the Goddess can hear. 

The same voice whispered that she was not one of these silly mortals. She had been ordained, by the Holy Light, to sing for The Goddess. To make Her smile.

After a few minutes, Abbie provided the much anticipated sweets. Oh, Freddie loved sweets. Her kind had an almost insatiable appetite for sweets. As promised, it had been decadent chocolate brownies. She fought down the urge to sing. Her voice was for her Lord and Lady alone now.

Later, in the silence of her quarters, Freddie took time to listen. She could hear Dr Rutledge asking to have her put in solitary, he wanted her to be alone for a few days to see if they could get her to sing loud enough to break windows again.

Yes, they could, she mused. Find out who had been filled with the spirit of the Goddess and bring them back. That could get her to sing. Easily. No need to contain her in such a manner.

Yet, Freddie waited until Dr Rutledge came for her. She began to softly hum as they led her down the long corridor. They paused briefly and the air was filled with the sound of static, barely able to be sensed by mortal ears. 

“What are you doing?” Rutledge asked. “Are you the one doing that?”

The piping in the walls were creaking and rattling, the windows vibrated in their panels. She stopped and took a breath. “You wanted broken windows, broken windows you shall have Doctor. But I have to warm up first. Otherwise I will strain my voice.”

Dr. Rutledge snorted lightly. “How about Crazy Little Thing Called Love? It's one of my favourite Queen tunes.”

“I don't care if it's your favourite,” Freddie drawled. “I do not serve you.”

As they began to walk again, Freddie resumed the soft, steady hum, changing her pitch now and again, testing her range. If she could get atop a tall building, her voice could reverberate for _thousands_ of miles. The entire north west section of the planet would be able to hear her.

It would manifest as a song stuck in their heads. Reaching into their psyche and making them sing along if they were part of The Choir. But for now she would have to suffice with the inhabitants of this place.

She could feel tension rolling from Rutledge, the longer she held her note. Rightfully so. If she used her voice at just a fraction of its capacity, it could do damage if she didn't have adequate space to let her voice project.

Freddie heard the door to solitary open. So she began to softly sing. “Amazing… Grace… how sweet the sound… that saved… a wretch… like me…”

“Not your usual fair,” Rutledge said with a nervous chuckle.

“I once was lost… but now I'm found…” Freddie allowed the mortal disguise to fall away, her silver wings stretching out as she heard Rutledge and the attending nurse scream then clamour away. She turned toward them. “Was blind… but now…” She opened her eyes. Where once her eyes had been covered with a haze, her eyes were a bright and brilliant blue. “I… seeeeee…”

She hit a high note, holding it and raising her pitch until the room began to tremble and quake. The plaster of the walls cracked and crumbled. She was only vaguely aware of Rutledge and the nurse pleading for her to stop as they plugged their ears.

She wanted to ask, _isn't this what you wanted_?

Everything around her vibrated as the building began to crumble. Suddenly, Freddie felt and saw a burst of light. She gasped and doubled over. She looked up, tears streaming down her face. Her ability to see had faded with her voice. But she did not need eyes to see the Light. 

_Lucifer. He was alive and well and awake once more. She hadn't felt his presence in nearly 200 or so odd years. She had felt him recently, but could not confirm his location. The same with the Goddess. Feeling Her Glory but having it quickly fade away. Lucifer could help her find the Goddess! He could always find Her._

With a wave of her hand, the exterior wall fell away. She looked toward the sound of the whimpering mortals. “Repent. For the end of mankind is near,” she intoned darkly.

She chuckled when they clung to their false faith. The faith that they only professed to when times were dire. It was one of the favoured phrases and thought it would be funny to experience their reaction. “You mortals are so funny. No, no… rejoice. You must rejoice! For She has returned!”

But first she had to find Her.

If she found Lucifer. She could find the Goddess.


End file.
